Breaking Point
by Amanda9
Summary: Grief always takes on strange shapes. Gnarled, twisted versions of what used to be there.


**_Breaking Point  
_By:** Amanda  
**Feedback:** sweety167yahoo.ca  
**Rating: **PG  
**Disclaimer: **I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys. I promise to put them back when I'm done, whenever that is.  
**Spoilers: **OotP  
**Pairings:** Remus/Sirius implied. McGonagall POV  
**Summary: **Grief always takes on strange shapes. Gnarled, twisted versions of what used to be there.  
**Completed: **September 20, 2007  
**Notes: **Warnings for Capslock!Remus. I set out to write something Remus/Sirius and it ended up being more about McGonagall.

* * *

An inhuman cry rattled against the walls. Against my bones.

It was a heartbreaking sight, watching a grown man crumble to pieces. But everyone has their breaking point, and finally, after all these years Remus Lupin had reached his.

"It's not fair," Remus sobbed, cracking through an emotionally scratched voice and clenching at his robes. Grief always takes on strange shapes. Gnarled, twisted versions of what used to be there.

Albus shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He'd already watched a child break down that day, and was no where near prepared to witness this man. Not here, not now. Possibly never. "_Remus_," he issued a low hiss, causing the other man to look up with red rimmed eyes and wait.

The shocked, remaining members of the Order waited too. They didn't know what else to do with themselves. One of their number had fallen, children had been harmed and now they watched someone suffer. Many were new and had never experienced this before. Had never really considered the reality.

Albus' magical blue eyes can master sympathy and strength in one gaze, but now behind the half-moon frames, was cold indifference. His eyes told more than a series of platitudes ever could. More than a stern voice. They could make demands.

"I know, I know," Remus raked a shaking hand through his now grey-peppered hair. Youth had slipped far away. Wasn't it only yesterday that they were children? Four inseparable friends, now divided by death and betrayal.

"There's a boy to consider – He's lost everyone," Remus slumped in his chair, shame now weighing heavy on his shoulders. The weight of everything pushing him lower.

From the corner of my eye I saw Tonks take a step forward, but Moody pulled her back. He could see it, experience told him. The breaking point; it was charged in the air. Kingsley knew well enough not to move, not to make a sound

Remus' body twitched; rage and frustration coiled around under his skin. It cracked, "But I'm sick of putting my grief on hold for the boy!"

No truer words were spoken; the strain was obvious on the thin frame, in the shaking of his limps, in the sadness of his eyes. The broken pieces stacked together in the shape of a man.

For a moment I thought I saw hate flash in Albus' eyes. Disapproval. It was a cold, stern voice, "But Harry--."

"I LOVED HIM TOO!" Remus jumped to his feet and raged back into the usually gentle face of Albus Dumbledore. The wolf breaking free in a moment of weakness. Of frustration. Of pain.

It must have been suffocating in the stench of death that hung in the air. That clung.

The room stilled with an eerie, uncomfortable silence. It was thick and heavy.

Albus' hand twitched for his wand, Remus swayed on his feet. They both needed something to happen.

"Enough!" I rushed in between the two of them. Both broken-hearted men. Both strained to the limit. But one needed more than the other would allow. "Enough."

"_Minerva_," Albus tried his low warning on me, but I wouldn't have it. I wouldn't do this again. I wouldn't let this happen again.

I wrapped an arm around Remus' thin and frail shoulders, letting the man lean on me. "I know you've never approved of what those two boys were Albus, but haven't you ever loved someone? Lost them?" I pleaded with him, "We forget that Remus lost everyone that night too; friends, lovers, family. He was betrayed too. He wasn't even allowed to know where Harry was, if he was alright – his last grasp of James and Lily – and yet we asked, no demanded, that he trudge on through for the sake of that boy. And never once did we thank him for it. Never thought of what it cost him."

Dumbledore moved to turn away, look away, get away. No, he needed to acknowledge this. Needed to be held accountable.

"Look Albus. Look!" Remus had slumped further against me, shaking with years of repressed sobs breaking at the slightest comfort. "It cost him his heart. Like when Ariana died with yours. Why must you push him? Why must you force him to break?"

Albus cast his cold stare at me and disappeared with a loud crack. In many ways, he is a great man, but admitting fault isn't one of them. He must be haunted by memories of these men as boys like I am. He must remember their scuffles and broken promises as clearly as their hopeful faces and biggest dreams. Their laughter and tears. He must mourn their rushed adolescence as much as their adult deaths. I do.

"Leave," I snapped at the few Order members still shuffling their feet and unsure where to let their eyes fall. They should leave; go home to their respective families and be glad the ones they love are still there to hold. They should leave; lighter with the knowledge that they still get one more day. They need to leave; Remus didn't need an audience. He needed the freedom the break down and fall apart. He needed permission to do that. He needed a chance.

After a series of cracks and muttered condolences the room had emptied.

Remus crumbled to his knees, clenching and clinging to the hem of my robes, crying like a child. I remembered this man crying as a boy because he was afraid his new friends wouldn't like him if they knew his secret. At instructions to keep a stiff upper lip he never shed a tear for the full moon. But he cries now because he's lost them, lost all of that.

At twenty-one we forced him to hold it together, keep it together and fight. We never gave him the chance to fight for himself. To mourn. We forced him to live the life of an old man. Never once offered him help, sympathy or compassion. Never helped him mend from all his losses. Never agreed they were his losses too, our losses. We let him down then. Lead youth into death. I wouldn't do that now.

I fell to my knees beside him.

And cried.

End.


End file.
